


Try Three

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel used to like Sebastian 'Bass' Monroe, in ways that she never confessed to her husband. But that was a long time ago and a different man. What they used to share is just another weapon now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time was on Impulse

The Matheson brothers were drunk. Ben was face-down on the sofa, snoring gently with his mouth open. Miles had taken the floor, sprawled out on the rug with a bottle of everclear cuddled in his arms like a teddy-bear. When Rachel bent down to check on him he looked like a kid, all bum-fluff and smooth skin. She fetched him a bucket for later and smoothed his hair back from his head.

That left one of her boys unaccounted for.

She grabbed a bottle of water – she was hardly sober, just less blotto than the others – and went looking for him. 

He was sitting on the floor outside her room, knees pulled up to his chest and face resting on the shelf they formed. Rachel slid down next to him and put her arm around his shoulders, resting her face against his cropped-down choirboy curls.

‘You ok?’ she asked. 

His shoulders heaved with a deep breath. ‘Fuck no.’

Rachel rubbed his arm and offered him the water. He grunted but took it, sucking down a quarter of a bottle of chilled water.

‘Second thoughts?’

He shook his head. ‘I ain’t smart like Ben,’ he said. ‘What else am I gonna do? Work in McDonalds?’

‘If you want,’ she said, and knocked her knuckles against his skull. ‘You’re not stupid, Bass. Just lazy.’

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. ‘There’s teachers’ who’d disagree,’ he said. ‘Besides, what’d Miles do without me?’

It was hard to imagine. They’d always been each other’s shadow, alibi and conspirator rolled into one. The only thing scarier than the thought of both of them in the army was the thought of one them there alone.

‘No regrets then?’ she asked, just to be sure.

Bass straightened up, stretching his legs out so his boots kicked the skirting, and took another gulp of water, swilling it around his mouth. 

‘Just one,’ he said.

She cocked her head to the side curiously, ‘What?’

He took a deep breath and made a clumsy lunge into her space, grabbing her shoulders and mashing his lips over hers. It was a cold kiss, sharp and mineraly, but desperate.  
Rachel braced her hands against his chest and shoved him away, sending him falling over onto his elbow. She rubbed her hand over her mouth and stared at him.

‘Bass…’ she said, not sure whether to be angry or conciliatory or…

He scrambled to his feet with rangy grace, face burning sullen red. ‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted. ‘I didn’t mean-‘

‘I know,’ she interrupted reassuringly. ‘It’s ok. It was just-‘

For a second he looked like he was going to agree, then he slashed his hand through the air. The gesture was emphatic enough to make him stagger.

‘I want you,’ he said, dropping back down to his knees with a thud. One hand reached out and stroked her hair carefully, as if amazed by the act. ‘I’ve always wanted you, but you only cared about Ben.’

Rachel wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t she moving? Ben had been distant the last few months, but that was because he was worried about Miles. Surely she didn’t resent that?

‘You were just a kid, Bass,’ she said. ‘You and Miles…’

‘We aren’t conjoined,’ he said, irritated. ‘And I’m not a kid anymore.’

He kissed her again, weaving his fingers through her hair. The brush of his fingers against the nape of her neck sent shivers down Rachel’s spine. She ended up leaning against the wall, legs twisted under her awkwardly. A hand slid up under her skirt, skimming up her thigh tentatively.

‘Just this once?’ Bass begged, resting his forehead against hers. His breath tickled her lips. ‘Before everything changes? No one ever has to know…’

His fingers reached her hip and hesitated, just brushing the edge of her panties. He feathered kisses over the seam of her lips and down her throat and she still wasn’t stopping him.  
And her motto had always been that she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. She reached down and put her hand over his, feeling his stiffen ready for rejection. Then she slid his hand between her thighs and leant in to kiss him back. 

His groan shivered through them both. 

They slid down onto the ground, pulling clothes up, down and out of the way. Rachel ran her hand down Bass’ chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle, to the waistband of his jeans. He bit her shoulder and rucked her skirt up to her waist. Warm, rough fingers explored the wings of her hips and her flat stomach. 

His breath hitched as she wrenched his jeans open and shoved them down, his cock already thick and heavy. She palmed it, sliding her fingers along the smooth length of him. He bucked into her hand, mumbling something throaty and indecipherable against her shoulder. His kisses slid down to her breast, sucking through the silk of her dress.

The pluck of his teeth on her nipple made her body pull tight, like he had hold of the nerves and was strumming them. She gulped and bit the inside of her cheek, breath shuddering in and out of her chest. Long fingers loosed his cock and followed the line of his thigh around to the smooth curve of his ass.

‘Bass,’ she said....but whatever she’d been about to say was lost as nudged her thighs apart. 

He braced himself over her, face tight with need and control, and stared down at her. ‘You sure about this, Rache?’

No. Maybe. She wasn’t going to let it stop her.

She stretched up to kiss him, tugging at the lush curve with sharp white teeth. He shifted and thrust, burying the length of himself inside her. She gasped and threw her head back, nails digging into his skin, at the ache/pleasure of it. 

He was bigger than…

No. She’d think later. Not now, not about that.

She wrapped her legs around him, heels pressing against the back of his thighs, and rocked up to meet his thrusts. The carpet scratched against her shoulders and ass and the ache of being over-stretched softened and gave way to sticky, hot building pleasure. Bass kissed her, a sliding, off-centre slash of his lips, and clenched his jaw. She could feel the clench and tension in his muscles as he slammed into her. 

He came before she did and collapsed on top on her, a hot, sweaty weight that made her already aching body twist tighter. A bubble of odd, unfair anger tried to squirm out of her throat. It wasn’t fair, if she was going to do this it should have been worth it.

Then Bass buried his face in her shoulder and mumbled, ‘I’m scared, Rache.’

Wrapping her arms around him, she lay in the stickiness of what they’d just done and murmured comfortingly in his ear.

The next time Bass saw her she was married and her belly tight as a drum with Ben’s baby.


	2. Second (and Third and Fourth and Fifth) was a compulsion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel used to like Sebastian 'Bass' Monroe, in ways that she never confessed to her husband. But that was a long time ago and a different man. What they used to share is just another weapon now.

‘Fuck’ she groaned, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. Fine blonde hair stuck to the sweat on her back like lace. The elegant swoop of her back lured him in for a kiss, pressing his lips against the slats of her ribs.

‘We already did,’ he joked, running a hand down to the lean curve of her ass. ‘But I’m still young –‘ unlike some, he left unsaid ‘- and we do have all day.’

His hand dipped down and in, sliding between her thighs to the wet heat of her. She made a choked little noise, tightening around his fingers. Her toes curled, bunching in the rumpled sheets.

‘We can fuck again,’ he said throatily, moving his fingers in a slow, teasing rhythm. ‘And again, and again.’

‘Don’t,’ Rachel protested, squirming away from him.

She got out of the bed and grabbed his shirt from the floor, dragging it over her damp, bare skin. Bass couldn’t say he liked the loss of the view, but he did like her wearing his clothes.

And there was something titillating about how it just covered her, the tails skimming the crease of her thighs.

‘I shouldn’t even be here,’ she said, pulling her hair from under his collar. ‘You have a girlfriend.’

‘Had,’ he corrected, rolling onto his back. His cock ached lazily, definitely interested. He reached down and wrapped his hand around it, tugging it harder ‘I dumped her.’

Rachel’s mouth twisted. ‘Bass, if it was because of me…’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It was because she got clingy,’ he said.

Ignoring him, Rachel pushed on. ‘I’m not leaving, Ben. This?’ She waved her hand between them. ‘This isn’t real, it won’t work. I shouldn’t even be here.’

She was talking herself out the door, and Bass wasn’t ready for that. He knew she’d go eventually, she always went eventually, but he wasn’t being cheated out of the day.

He started to sit up, winced and lay back down, ostentatiously pressing his hand against his purpled-up ribs. Rachel gave him that look, the one that wasn’t even slightly fooled, but came over to check on him anyhow. She grabbed his painkillers from the bedside table and crawled onto the bed next to him.

‘They didn’t seem that sore earlier,’ she said, dropping two pills into his hand.

‘You kissed them better,’ he smirked.

They had hurt, but not enough to stop him getting laid. He popped the pills and threw his head back, dry swallowing them and grimacing at the sour taste the powder left on his tongue.

‘You should be more careful,’ she told him, carefully spreading her hands over the hot flare of colours. ‘What happened?’

Heat and noise and dizziness.

Later he’d work out he’d been blown through the air, but in the moment it was all contextless as a dream.

Then the ground slapped him back down, knocking the air out and pain in, and he could hear Miles yelling through the buzzing in his ear and it was raining. Raining in the desert.

Later he’d work out that was what was left of Benj, splattering down onto the dust dry earth.

He shrugged and smirked, catching her face and pulling it down for a kiss to get the taste off his tongue.

‘The women there have real nasty tempers,’ he said, drawing back.

Her eyes narrowed like she was annoyed, but the line of her mouth twitched towards a smile. She slid her fingers through his hair, toying with the curls.

It was that little vanity that stopped him shaving his hair down to his scalp. The occasional jeer was worth it to feel her touching him like that, like she didn’t think about it. Like it was natural to her.

She liked it, so he kept it.

Not that he’d tell her that. She’d start twisting in the wind about him waiting on her, putting his life on hold. It wasn’t like that. He knew he couldn’t give her anything. What would he do if she did give Ben his marching orders? Put her and the kid – Charlie, who was premature but not by much and he could count – up in his quarters? Quit drinking and gambling and actually be responsible?

She deserved better. That’s why she had Ben.

And Bass had her, because God was good and looked the other way for fools and marines.

‘Next time, find a slow woman,’ she told him.

She crawled down his body, kissing her way from his collarbone to his hip. He wasn’t sure what felt better, the wet lave of her tongue or the scrape of her teeth. She sucked on his nibble, flicking the flat bud with her tongue, and nuzzled the dip of his belly button.

For the second time that day, his cock didn’t care what happened to the bruised and battered rest of him.

Rachel’s hair trailed over his thighs as she kissed the head of his cock. His hips bucked up off the bed and he clenched his fists in the sheets. She parted those clever, witty lips and wrapped them around his cock.

He groaned, the sound dragged out of him raw, at the heat of her mouth and flick of her tongue. One long-fingered hand cupped his balls, nails scratching lightly over fine skin. She sucked on him, pleasure yanking through his body like wire, and let his cock slip wetly from her mouth, lips wandering damply down the side.

The flawless, creamy pale skin of hers was flushed, with red smudges on her high cheekbones, and her eyes were bright and feverish. She didn’t look distant and in control now – sometimes she did, mid-fuck, like it was an interesting experiment - not with him.

Slowly, making him throttle a curse behind his lips as he ached, she trailed her tongue from his balls to the head of his cock. One last suck, and fuck he swore he could feel it in his chest, and she pushed herself up.

He held his hands out and she grabbed them, twisting her fingers through his, and shifted so those long, lean legs straddled his hips. His shirt was hanging open, revealing the taut line of her stomach and inner curve of her breasts that trembled as she panted.

‘Condom?’ she asked breathlessly.

There was a packet in his bag. It wasn’t like he’d not been hoping for this. He didn’t really know why he lied about it. ‘Ain’t got any left. It’ll be ok.’

She bit her lip, but lowered herself onto him, biting her lip as her body stretched to accommodate him. A drip of sweat trickled down her collarbone to down between her breasts and he pulled her down so he could lick it away. Sweat and that moisturizer she always used, that smelt of melon but tasted spicy on his lips.

Since he was there he bit the side of her breast, hard enough to make her gas, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Probably.

She shivered, a tremble running from her hand to wet flesh wrapped around him, and rolled her hips against his in a slow, maddening rhythm. He could feel the blood thumping his cock as Rachel moved on top of him, ignoring his groans with a smug little smile.

Losing patience he tangled his legs through hers and twisted, rolling them both over so she was flat under him. Her breasts squashed against his chest and his cock sliding just that little bit further in, just enough to make her give an ego-boosting little whimper.

‘You’re supposed to be taking it easy,’ she reminded him, voice half-breathless and half-laughing.

‘Fuck that,’ he mumbled, biting the jut of her collarbone.

He thrust into her roughly, her hips rising to meet his and pink flushing from her belly to her breasts. Her nipples puckered tight and pink on her breasts, just begging for his mouth, and she cried out when he sucked on them.

She didn’t have to worry about leaving marks. Sharp nails dug into his back, scraping along his shoulder blades, and she bit the soft skin over his collarbone, worrying a bruise there.

Her body clenched around his, tight and fluttering, as she squeezed her eyes shut. He buried himself in her as deep as he could as she orgasmed, shuddering and keening under and around him.

He held himself still until she was done, ignoring the aching twitch in his muscles to fucking move already. She swore when he started moving again, sinking her nails back into his shoulders. Ducking his head down, he bit her lip.

‘Look at me,’ he ordered.

She did, blue eyes so huge and bright he could lose himself in them. He emptied himself inside her, feeling like he’d wrung himself out, and let his weight drop onto her. The sweaty heft   
of him made her grumble half-heartedly, but she didn’t shove at him to get off.

So he lay there, body remembering it was goddamn sore, and wondered what the hell he was doing?


	3. The Third Time Wasn't Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con...considering the situation

Bass leant on his desk, grey-pallid, bloody and spitting orders through gritted teeth. Apparently Miles’ hadn’t the conviction to go through with killing him, but a little light stabbing to slow him down was acceptable between friends. Blood soaked through the make-shift bandage on his thigh, but he snarled and slapped away the medic who wanted to look at it.

‘Find Miles and bring him back,’ Bass snapped. ‘Alive or dead is up to him.’

Despite herself Rachel, dragged from her room and left in the corner, protested that. ‘Don’t do something you’ll regret.’

Bass glared at her and there was nothing but fury in his arctic pale eyes. For the first time in a long time, he made Rachel flinch.

‘I regret nothing,’ he spat, lurching up off his perch. He glared at the various militia functionaries fussing around him. ‘Get out. You have your orders. Go.’

The room emptied. Jeremy hesitated, glancing side-long at Rachel, but when Bass glared he went too.

‘They’re scared of you,’ Rachel said, condemnation in her face.

It didn’t touch Bass, his face was a mask over that barely-reined temper.

‘They should be,’ he said.

Rachel lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. ‘And Miles? Should he be afraid too? Is that why he left? Look at yourself, Bass. Even your best friend, your brother, can’t stand by you.  
You’re alone, is that what you want.’

He limped over the rich, blood stained carpet until he was too close. Bloody, bruised fingers brushed a strand of Rachel’s hair back behind her ear. They lingered on her cheek.

‘And what would you call yourself, Rache?’ he asked.

He’d been the only one who called her that. Even then it twisted a knot of guilt, affection and loss in her chest, no matter how much she wished she didn’t feel anything. Just because she felt it, though, didn’t mean she had to let him know.

‘A prisoner,’ she said.

His hand twisted in her hair and he yanked her head back painfully. She breathed in through her nose and rose up onto her tip-toes, trying to lessen the pain in her scalp.

‘You walked away from your husband,’ he said, spitting the words in her ears like poison. ‘You left your children behind, your poor, defenseless children. Do you think they’d welcome you if you came back now? Do you think they’d kill the fatted calf for you?’

She took a shuddering breath. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

He gave a thin, humourless smile. ‘Do you think they’ll buy that, Rachel? That you had no choice but to walk away from them and put yourself in my custody?’

‘I surrendered to Miles.’

His breath was warm and damp on her throat. She shuddered as he kissed her, pressing his lips against her pulse.

‘Always me,’ he said. ‘You came to me, and left your children alone.’

‘I left them with their father.’

Silence for a second, then he asked ‘Did you?’

She stiffened and shoved at him, making a frustrated noise when he didn’t shift. ‘Don’t.’

‘I might not have gone to university, Rachel, but I do know the basics of biology,’ he said. ‘And genetically, if you’re fucking a blue-eyed man and a brown-eyed man – who’s the dad of the blue-eyed baby?’

She pushed at him again, thumping the heels of her hands against his chest. ‘I have blue eyes.’

‘Danny was the boy, right?’ he said. ‘Sickly kid. Not mine, I never got sick. The girl though, Miles had pictures of her. Blonde, blue-eyed…stubborn, he said. Nothing like Ben.’

‘You know the basics of biology,’ Rachel said, parroting the words back at him. ‘If you cared, you’d have asked before. Ben’s their Dad.’

He let go of her and stepped back. ‘Because he was the best bet, the steady, stolid Ben. These days though, I can offer them the world.’ He spread his arms, indicating the room and the city and everything beyond. ‘Maybe I should go find them, embrace them. A few months in my camps and they’ll call me Dad, they won’t even remember-‘

She punched him, her knuckles catching the point of his chin. It caught him off-guard and he staggered backwards, rubbing his jaw. Rachel balanced on her toes – startled herself at the unplanned reaction – and then opted for flight instead of fight. She dashed past him and headed for the door, bare feet skidding on the wooden floor.

It was stupid, there was nowhere to go. The reasonable part of her brain, the bit that weighed everything and had only ever shut up around Bass, knew that. She wasn’t Miles. She didn’t have the skills to escape an armed militia camp. The buzz of adrenaline in her brain didn’t care. 

Miles was gone. Her bargain with his was no longer in play and Bass…he wasn’t anyone she knew anymore. She wanted her children.

She slid into the door, cracking her shoulder against the wood, and grappled with the door knob. The slick metal refused to do what her fingers wanted. She cursed and managed to wrench it open, getting a glimpse of the corridor outside.

It slammed shut, Bass’ arm braced against it and his body hot against her back.

‘You Mathesons,’ he said. ‘Always in a hurry to leave.’

She leant her head against the door and closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. ‘I can’t help you.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Either way, it does you no good to keep me here,’ she said, squirming. ‘You own a quarter of your world, Bass. Be content.’

‘I am through accepting fractions as my lot,’ he told her. ‘Through being grateful for what time I can be spared and half the glory and all the blame of the militia. I will take what I want.’

He was too close to ignore the implications of that. Rachel stiffened and looked over her shoulder at him.

‘Including me?’ she asked, raising her eyebrow. ‘If you think that will-‘

He smirked. ‘I already own you, Rachel,’ he said. ‘Miles might have left and Ben might be raising my children-‘

‘No!’ she said.

He corrected himself, but only enough to say ‘My child. But I own you, Rachel Matheson. But I don’t need to rape you. Who else is going to touch you? Taste your skin?’

He licked the back of her neck and, goddamn her, she couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her. It had been a … while since anyone had touched her, and her body knew Bass. Maybe she didn’t love him, or like him much, but she wanted him.

Bass laughed, low and smug and darkly pleased with himself. 

His hand slid under her top and up from her stomach to her breast, scraping his thumb over her nipple. She sank her teeth into her lower lip, heat sliding down into her stomach. 

‘Tell me to stop,’ he dared her. ‘If you do, I won’t touch you. Ever.’

It was about control, he’d lost it over Miles and was proving he still had it over her. She should tell him to go, just play the ice queen and dismiss him and…what? How long would she be here? With no-one to…with no-one.

She didn’t – couldn’t – face that. Twisting around she grabbed his jacket, twisting the lapels, and leant in close enough that they were almost kissing. Doubt flickered in those cold blue eyes of his as she paused.

‘Because I get what I want,’ she said and pressed her lips to his. They twisted sourly underneath her kiss, but he didn’t pull away. He shoved her against the door, making it rattle, and claimed her mouth. His hands roved over her body, rough enough to bruise, before they dropped to her hips, stripping her pyjama bottoms off. She reached down and tugged at his uniform, trying to fumble his belt loose blind. He shoved her hands away and broke the kiss, looking down as he wrenched it loose. The buckle dangled as she went to work on his fly.

If she wanted to run he’d have trouble following her, it occurred to her as she shoved them down his lean hips to free his erection. The bandage trapped his trousers above his knees, hobbling him. All she’d have to do is get past the rest of the militia and escape the city in her jammies.

Bass caught her chin and lifted it, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip in a gentle caress.

‘You’re never leaving here,’ he told her. ‘I don’t care what Miles promised you, if you ever see your family again? They’ll be my prisoners.’

He buried himself in her roughly with that promise, a dull ache flaring between her hips. Reaching down he grabbed her backside, shifting her hips forwards, as he fucked her.  
The achey burn blurred into tight, welling want as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. He murmured things into her ear that would have been romantic, if they hadn’t come from the warlord holding her prisoner. She’d never leave him, never have anyone else and he’d never let anything happen to her.

He trailed his lips over her jaw and down to her throat, biting and sucking at the tender skin. 

Rachel threw her head back as she her orgasm stuttered through her on a hot, wringing wave that left her trembling and hanging onto Bass to keep her wobbly legs under her. His skin was wet and hot under her palm, and she could fell a fine tremble slicing through his muscles.

‘Look at me,’ he told her. Ordered her. 

She opened her eyes and watched his face as he drove himself into her, his hands flexing around her backside as he yanked her closer. 

‘When I see my children again, you’ll be dead,’ she told him as he emptied himself into her. ‘And forgotten.’

Still inside her, leaning against her as he panted into her shoulder, he laughed hoarsely.

‘Not by you, Rache,’ he said. ‘That’s the hell of it isn’t it, you’d miss me.’

She banged her knee against his thigh, making him grunt. ‘Like a hole in the thigh.’

Bass pulled out of her and wiped his cock on her torn top. ‘Talk all you want, Rache,’ he said, pulling his trousers back up. ‘You aren’t in control here, no matter how many secrets you  
keep.’

He paused to rub the bruise on his chin and gave her a cold look. 'And if you hit me again? You'll hurt for it.'


End file.
